


stay in your lane

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, alternate universe - forbidden lovers, lexa and bellamy don't like each other and I'm sorry i added to the stigma, track team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running was easy, firm rules, no sharp turns or unexpected happenings. The exact opposite of Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. he's a prick

**Author's Note:**

> I highkey don't like this but I like the concept so whatever

"I'm going for a run." Clarke says, already shoving her headphones in.   
Abby puts down the paper, and gives her daughter a look. "Didn't you just go last night?"  
Clarke struggles to keep her sigh inward. "Yes, and I'm going again." Not that she had to report her every move to her mother, but it was better that than to get a lecture later. She leaves before Abby can tell her about homework and scholars and all the shit Clarke has no interest in hearing.   
She had never been into running, or any physical activity for that matter, but it was an amazing stress reliever. It was also a good excuse to get out of the house, which she found herself doing as often as possible.   
Ever since her parents divorced and her dad moved out, the house just felt empty. And her mom was constantly on edge, which made her on edge and usually ended in a big fight about nothing.   
So she runs, twice a day and insistently. And she loves it. 

"Why don't you try out for the track team?" Wells asks that day at school.   
She crunches her apple. "You think I'm good enough?"   
Wells considers. "You're definitely fit enough. You might have to work on your speed, but I think you can do it."  
Wells had been her best friend since before they could walk, and they were inseparable.   
"I appreciate your faith in me, but running is just a fun thing. I don't need to prove I'm the best or anything." She shrugs, hiding the fact that she'd love to at least try out.   
"I'm not saying you do, but you would have fun." When she still looks skeptical, he leans in and sing songs, "It'd keep you out of the house longer."   
She smiles from behind her apple. "You should have started with that."

But talking about it was easier than actually doing it, and Coach Anya was fucking tough. She'd yell at Clarke the second she slowed her pace, and her words weren't exactly encouraging.   
"Is she always like this?" Clarke whispers to Lexa at their second practice. Lexa glances at her and smirks. "She's a bitch, but she pushes us hard and always makes sure we do our best." She jumps up from her stretching position and begins her laps.   
"Hurry up, Griffin!" She calls, running backwards. Which, totally unfair.   
She finishes tying her laces and hurries to catch up.   
Anya only yells at her twice, which Clarke counts as at least an improvement. 

"Make sure you have your parents sign your forms before saturday. Do not show up without them." Anya says two weeks later.   
Track had gotten easier, she had gotten used to wanting to puke her guts up after each practice. And water was her new best friend.   
"Do you wanna sit together on the bus?" Lexa asks.   
Clarke nods. All the other girls on the team were so snooty, as if allowing another member was personally offending them. Lexa had tucked Clarke under her wing, which she appreciated thoroughly.   
"Five laps! I don't want to see anyone lagging!" Anya shouts, clapping her hands more aggressively than necessary.   
"You heard her, Griffin, let's go." Lexa mimics kicking Clarke and they both laugh, earning glares from Anya. 

"How much money is it?" Abby says when Clarke gives her the form.   
"Free. We did a fundraiser."  
Abby still looks as if she's going to disapprove. "I don't know ... "  
Clarke racks her brain for reasons as why she should be able to go.   
"I made a new friend, Lexa. We're supposed to sit together on the bus." She rocks on her heels, trying her hardest to seem mature.   
"Ok. You can go." Her mom says after a lengthy pause.   
"Thank you!" Clarke squeals, bounding to her room to pack. She passes her sketch book, which she hasn't touched in months.   
"Another life." She says, and puts it in a drawer. 

"On the bus! Let's go!" Anya growls at the girls lingering outside. She does everything with aggression. Clarke wonders if that's natural or if she practices being so, scary.   
Lexa pulls her along and plops into a seat near the front, which Clarke gives a disapproving look to.   
"We can be the first off the bus." Lexa reasons. Clarke sighs and sits.   
The bus ride is long, and her legs are cramping by the time they stop.   
The track meet is bigger than she thought it'd be, the colours of each school blur together.   
Except for one, black and blue and white jersey stands out from the others. And so does the captain.   
She elbows Lexa. "Who's that?"   
Lexa makes a sound of disgust. "Bellamy Blake. From Brooklyn. He's a dick."   
Clarke watches the way he stretches and laughs at something his friend says. She gets a glimpse of his tan stomach when he stretches his arms, and she looks away.   
"Why? Is he a dick, I mean. Does he cheat or something?" Clarke doesn't exactly know how you could cheat at track, but she's sure it could be done, with the right motivation and all.   
"I think what he does is worse than cheating, but that's just my opinion." Lexa turns up her nose as they pass the Brooklyn team, and Bellamy's face turns hard as stone. Except she's fairly certain he's not looking in Lexa's direction, he's looking straight at Clarke. Goosebumps skitter across her arms under his gaze, and she quickly tears her eyes from his.   
"What could be worse than cheating?" She pushes again.   
"He's known to sleep with girls from other teams, letting them fall in love with the thought of him and when they let him win, he dumps them." Lexa sneers in his direction again, and Clarke worries for his physical health.   
"Did you ever...?" She stumbles.   
"No. I don't do guys, and even if I did I wouldn't be so foolish as to fall into his bed." She runs off to register and leaves Clarke trying very hard not to look in Bellamy's direction. She doesn't like to admit that she is normally attracted to jerks, it's not the brightest thing about her, but she would admit that he is her type. The brilliant smile that you have to work for, the teasing eyes, the dark curls framing his face.   
Finn hadn't been near as attractive as Bellamy, and she still fell for him.   
"And look how well that turned out?" She scalds herself, remembering the awful break up and the constant guilt.  
Finn had already had an amazing girlfriend, Raven, when he started dating Clarke. Neither of them had any idea about each other until last Christmas, where they both showed up thinking the other was Finns cousin. Christmas dinner had been cut short, to say the least, when they found out the truth.   
Clarke shudders at the memory, and rushes to push it from her mind. She's different now, she doesn't need to sleep with the first person that shows interest in her.   
And even if she was still like that, Bellamy is far from showing interest, by the look of pure disgust he showed earlier. Which she was perfectly ok with, even if it did sting a little.   
"Griffin!" Lexa calls, waving her to the registry. Clarke nods and heads over, vowing to keep Bellamy Blake from her mind the rest of the day. 

That becomes difficult when he ends up racing against her in four of her six races. It's not like he gives her a second glance, which ouch, but she can always feel his presence. It's a crawly feeling all over her body, like spiders or something equally as gross squirming around under her clothes. She's distracted in her first race because of it, and she loses.   
"Clarke." says Lexa, seconds away from giving her a slap on the wrist.   
"I know. I know, I'll get focused." She says, chugging some water.   
"Good." And that's the extent of their conversation.   
Her second and third races go better, she earns second in both. It's not first, but it's not dead last either. And it's her first time, it's not like she was expecting to leave every competitor in the dust, but it would be nice for a few to bite it a little. Her fourth race Bellamy isn't in, and he's not in her fourth either, she wins both.   
"That's my girl!" Lexa punches Clarke on the arm, the only affection she knows, and Clarke smiles.  
Her final race, Bellamy is in the lane next to hers and the crawly feeling spreads across her body. It rapidly increases when he leans closer and seems to begin to say something.   
But then the signal goes off and Clarke is running, pushing, propelling herself forward.   
She's focused on the finish line, until the girl on her right drifts into her lane and Clarke falls behind.   
"What the hell was that?" She says at the finish line, that just for the record, she crossed first anyway.   
The girls face is as innocent as a deers. "You pushed me to get an advantage so you could win. I believe you should be disqualified." She says, her voice choked with fake tears.   
"You've got to be joking."   
The girl sniffles. "I'm telling the truth."  
"You came into my lane! I didn't touch you! Not like I could, seeing as your were so far behind me." Clarke snips.   
The girls jaw drops and she steps closer, lies already spilling out of her mouth. But then Bellamy steps between them, and Clarke furrows her brow.   
"Roma, you know you're a drifter and I saw it with my own two eyes. Clarke didn't lay a hand on you. Just go before this turns into something ugly." His voice is deep, and smooth like honey, kind of raspy, and clearly convincing too because Roma skips off without another peep.  
"Thanks." She says when he turns to face her. "Even though I could have handled it."  
Bellamy nods and stalks off, not even bothering to say you're welcome.   
"Prick." She grits out.   
Lexa comes bounding up to her, already pounding on her back in praise.   
"No bitch gets by you, huh?" Lexa laughs, swinging her arm around Clarke.   
"Not today, at least."   
She doesn't bring up what Bellamy did, it sent mixed signals for her, but Lexa would only see it as him trying to get into her pants. And Clarke really thought there was more to it than that, as unfortunate and naive as it was. 

"What about the pet store?" Wells suggests, pointing to the ad. She twists her lips. "Puppies are great and everything, but I'm really not into the whole peeing with literally every emotion thing."   
He nods and sticks his head back into the paper. "Good point."  
Since track season was starting to wind down, and Clarke needed to make some money of her own, they were job hunting. Wells already has a job delivering pizza at his fathers restaurant, where all jobs were filled. "Do you think I could go a while without getting fired at the costume place?"   
"I feel like the costumes would be too tempting for your true artist heart."  
She places a hand over her chest, painting a sappy look on her face.   
"You know me so well."  
"I keep a notebook and write down all the weird things about you, it's very creepy and stalker-ish." He shakes the paper out and sits back.   
"I appreciate your dedication to this friendship."   
"It is an awful lot of work, you know."   
She smacks his leg and continues to scan the job ads.   
"I got it!" Wells gasps after a few minutes, shoving the paper towards her. He jabs his pointer to the corner ad.   
"A bookstore?"   
"Yes! It's quiet and calm and non stress inducing, and you're constantly surrounded by books. Plus I will be using your employee discount every chance I get. And it's in Brooklyn, it's nice there."  
He did make it sound appealing, and she does love books.   
"I'll apply tomorrow."   
Wells actually squeals, and she laughs. 

She goes into the bookstore fairly hopeful, she's confident she could stock some shelves without fucking it up too bad. And she isn't horrible with people, she could plaster on a smile and seem pleasant.   
All that confidence flees from her body when she sees the manager.   
"Clarke Griffin? Oh." Bellamys face instantly falls and her stomach sinks.   
"I—um, yeah. That's me." She silently curses, her voice could at least stay steady for once.   
"Application?"   
She nearly trips handing it to him, and he rips it out of her hand with much more force than needed. He spends a few moments reading it, giving away nothing with his facial expressions. She also curses his ability to constantly look bored.   
He puts down the paper and starts to type on the computer. She stands there awkwardly, waiting to be told to go back home. He clearly wasn't interested in having her around, and he obviously wasn't going to pay her to annoy him with her presence.   
"Can you start today?"   
Her heart helpfully lodges itself in her throat and her eyes widen.   
"I—I got the job?" She stutters.   
"Do you want it in writing or something?" He says with no humor.   
Her laugh is nervous. "I—no, I just—never mind. Yeah, I can start today."   
He nods and types again.   
Again, she stands there awkwardly.   
She didn't know why she was letting this pompous jackass control her, she didn't owe him anything.   
She stews for a moment, then sobers. He didn't owe her anything either, just because she had boobs didn't mean he had to stare at them. Or even acknowledge they were there, maybe he wasn't attracted to her, which all the better. She wasn't attracted to him either and it would be weird if it was a one way thing. Yes, she could deal with this professionally and maturely. Right. 

So, so, fucking wrong.   
She can handle Bellamy being a dick, that's how he acted, and she had to accept the fact that he simply didn't enjoy the presence of other people. Whatever. But she cannot stand how he makes her feel, like a toddler or someone who doesn't belong.   
She often grumbles about it to Wells, complaining and ultimately just making both of them miserable.   
"I just don't understand why. What did I ever do to him?" She whines.   
Wells groans. "I don't know! I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" He brings his hands down against the couch with every word and she resists the urge to laugh. He looks like a penguin trying to fly.   
"He's just so—"  
"Annoying? Frustrating? Hard to figure out? Infuriating?" Wells supplies with a know it all look.   
"I think we should be done with this conversation." She pats him on the knee and stands.   
"Thank the good lord!" He shouts, and she falls back onto her seat with laughter. 

"You should visit your father."  
She stops pouring her juice and pauses her playlist. "I'm sorry, what?"  
Abby sighs. "Please don't make me say it twice."  
Clarke barks out a laugh and moves to hug her mom. "When can I go?"   
Her mom squeezes her for a moment, then reaches into her purse and produces an envelope.   
"I bought you tickets for this weekend."   
Clarke greedily rips open the package and grins at the slips of paper. "I'll have to clear it with my boss, but it should be fine." She says, running up to her room. 

Bellamy gives her a hard look. "No."  
Her heart deflates and her nostrils flare with anger. "Why not?" She's surprised at how she manages to keep her voice steady.   
"It's the first long weekend of the summer." He says it as if it's obvious.   
"So...?"   
"So, we get a lot of customers those days." He grabs a box and walks past her to the counter.   
"I don't want to question your authority or anything but—"  
"Then don't." He cuts her off. He begins to pile out books and the little nick nacks they keep at the store.   
She steps up to help. "I don't even work with customers. I stock shelves, you really need me to do that over the long weekend?" She's seconds away from begging, and she'd really like to leave with her dignity still intact.   
She notices the flutter in his jaw, he obviously didn't expect her to push against him. A few minutes of silence go by, and he turns to look at her. She swears his face softens, and his eyes go somewhat doe like. But he blinks and it's gone. "I said no." He growls and pushes past her.   
"Bellamy, come on! I don't know what I did to make you so—" She cuts herself off, not wanting to anger him further. But he seems to be waiting for the insult.   
"What? What, princess? What do you think I am?" The way he says it, its as if he wants her to make him angry. She closes the space between them and jabs a finger in his chest.   
"You wanna know what I think? You're closed off and fucking rude. You don't care about anyone but yourself!" She shouts. Her chest heaves and she doesn't think about the fact that she's probably lost her job. She also ignores the hurt that flashes over his features for a brief moment, cold fury replaces it. He leans in close to her face and when he speaks, his voice is hard.   
"You shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about." He grabs the finger still digging into his chest and shoves it away. His mask of fury slips away and his normal mask of calm covers his features when he says, "Take the weekend, I don't care. In fact, take the whole summer off and use the time off to find a new job."  
She lets out a noise of frustration and grabs her bag, ripping it off the counter. She slams the door on her way out and doesn't look back.


	2. she's a princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god this is so extra I'm so sorry.

"Wait, wait, wait." Miller waves his hands and leans forward, giving him a incredulous look. "You're doing this purposely?"  
He rubs his face. "How many times are you going to ask that question?"  
Miller sits back, eyes wide. "I don't think I've ever heard something so dumb. I really thought I had heard it all—"  
He groans and cuts him off, Miller could get unbearably off topic. "Can we focus? How do I apologize without undoing all the work I've put into this?" He was exhausted, it was tiring pretending to be a douche all the time.  
"I'm pretty sure you're a natural dick." Miller pats him on the knee and stands, hand on his chin.  
"I take it as a compliment."  
"Why do you need to apologize at all?" He ignores him.  
"Because! I can be a prick and she puts up with it—"  
"Why can't you date her again? You probably won't find anyone else like that."  
"—but I knew what I was doing was too far. And I need her back at the store." Bellamy jiggles his knee, nervous. He's never been one perceptual to guilt; it's an awful feeling.  
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Haven't you ever apologized before?"  
Bellamy makes a face.  
"Right. Natural dick."  
"Is that supposed to be helpful?"  
He grins. "You should be thankful I'm here at all, I've heard enough about this girl. Especially in your whiny voice."  
Bellamy throws a pillow at his face, which Miller deflects.  
"Can you go five seconds without insulting me?"  
"Where's the fun in that, asswipe?"  
"Why are we even friends."  
Miller shrugs and pads over to the kitchen, he grabs a beer and a bag of chips. Bellamy swears he has a hollow leg, the guy never stops eating.  
"Just get her number, say you were a dick, and tell her if she wants the job it's still hers. Boom." He crunches a chip.  
Bellamy opens his mouth a few times, but ends up closing it again.  
"I don't know anyone who would have her number." He grumbles, putting his head in his hands.  
"Ask Lexa." Miller says, like its the easiest thing in the world.  
"Yeah, right. She wouldn't let me go near Clarke with a pole."  
He makes a face. "Isn't it a ten foot pole?"  
"Not the point."  
"I'm just saying—"  
"I'll ask Raven." He states, phone already in his hand. Miller shudders.  
"That girl scares me."  
"My friend, you wouldn't be human if she didn't scare you."

Raven isn't exactly willing about the whole Clarke thing, she knew what he was up to and she never said she was against it, but it was pretty obvious.  
"I'm trying to be the good guy here and you are literally not letting me." He whines, drunkly. His stepdad didn't care if he drank his booze, and Bellamy wasn't going to let that opportunity slip away. Raven often helped him, like tonight.  
"I just truly want you to understand what an asshole you are."  
His mouth quirks. "You tell me quite frequently, it's not like I could forget."  
"Fine." She turns up her to nose.  
"You're a true friend."  
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Blake."

He's not exactly sure how he ends up greeting Clarke in his boxers. It wasn't planned or wanted and yet here they are standing awkwardly on his doorstep.  
"I didn't go to my dads." She says, seemingly unfazed by his half nakedness. He on the other hand, is a little stunned.  
"I have to put pants on." It comes out gruff, like everything he says to her. He leaves the door open and bolts upstairs, when he returns clad in grey sweatpants, Clarke is admiring a picture. Of him.  
"How old were you?" She asks absently.  
"I dunno. Three, maybe."  
He waits for her to speak again, but she doesn't, so he starts to watch tv. This clearly was not the right thing to do.  
"Why are you so goddamn aloof all the time? Don't you know how to have a normal conversation? Or is it your inability to go five minutes without grumbling?" Clarke crosses her arms over her chest.  
He knew how to have a conversation, not just when it was with her.  
"I don't grumble." He says, stubborn. She rolls her eyes.  
"Whatever. Were you serious? About the job still being mine?"  
He glances up when he notes the nervousness in her voice.  
"Yeah."  
"Cool, I'll see you monday then." She rocks back on her heels once before heading towards the door. She's gone before he can ask how she found his address. 

Things aren't...normal, after that, but they're better. He's learned the best way to keep her away from him is to simply ignore her. Which yeah, dick move, but it's best for all parties involved. And it's not like they need to communicate, he helps the customers, she stocks shelves. No talking required. 

It goes really well, until she quite literally blows up at a customer for being slightly rude and storms away. It's not like he can just pretend it didn't happen, as much as he wants to, so he apologizes to the customer and follows Clarke into the supply room. He closes the door behind him, not looking at her.  
"What the hell were you thinking, princess? You can't just yell at a customer whenever you feel like it! And you certainly—" He cuts himself off when he finally looks up, and sees her face is tear stained. He instantly sobers.  
She's sitting on the little kids chair, head in her hands. She looks so...small. "Hey, what's going on?" He asks, hesitantly closing the space between them. When she doesn't meet his eyes, he crouches down and puts his hands on her thighs.  
Which, yes, he knows, stupid plan, but he can't help it that his nice guy instincts kick in when he sees someone crying.  
"It's nothing." She mumbles, voice rough from crying.  
"It's clearly not, I didn't think anything got under your skin as much as I could. I was kind of proud." He teases, his grin widening when she snorts a little.  
She, finally, meets his eyes, and his heart feels squashed in his chest. Her nose is all red, and her mascara is running. He resents the fact that her tears make her eyes even bluer, if that's possible.  
"Come on, Clarke, what's going on?"  
She wipes her nose and shakes her head. "It doesn't matter."  
He presses closer. "Of course it does. Maybe I can help."  
She laughs humorlessly. "If doctors can't help, I'm pretty sure you won't be able to."  
He twists his face in confusion. "I don't think I understand—"  
She stands so abruptly he almost falls back on his ass, but he catches himself and rises as well.  
"Clarke—" He reaches for her hand, but she rips it away. Anger replaces the sadness on her face and guilt bubbles in his stomach.  
"Can we just go back to when you hated me? I don't think I can take any more of your mood swings." She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "Whatever you want, princess." He pushes past her and opens the door.  
They don't speak to each other for the rest of the day. 

"It's official." He says, flopping onto Millers couch. "She hates me."  
Miller kicks at his feet until he moves them and he sits down.  
"Wasn't that the whole point? You sound upset at the fact that your fucked up plan worked."  
"I wanted her to think that I was a douche, and not want to go out with me—"  
"Mission accomplished."  
"I didn't want her to never want to talk to me again." He groans.  
"Is this one of those, 'you didn't know what you had until it was gone' moments?" Miller squints at him.  
"I'm not in love with her."  
He snorts. "You're definitely in something with her. You can pretend you don't care, but I can see right past that bullshit."  
Bellamy glares. "It was a stupid plan. I should have just told her."  
Miller gives him a look. "Because that would have went swell."  
"Isn't honestly your policy or something?" Bellamy kicks him.  
Miller ignores him, and begins to speak in what Bellamy assumes is an impression of him. "Oh hey, Clarke? You're new to the track team right? Yeah, my coach is going to try to get us to hook up and you to fall madly in love with me so I win. Do you want to get some coffee?" Miller rolls his eyes.  
"Ok! Fine! I was doomed from the start! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"  
Miller throws a pillow at his face. "It's senior year, you'll both go to separate colleges and to her, you'll just be the semi-cute guy that was a dick. And she'll be the really hot girl that you potentially could have had a thing with but you fucked up." He pats his ankle, almost affectionately.  
Bellamy kicks at him again. "I'm seriously offended on so many levels."  
"Yesterday you said too many levels, I must be slipping."  
"Yeah, I'm really upset about it."

He heads into work the next day expecting Clarke to give him the silent treatment, he's actually hoping that she totally ignores him.  
She has different ideas.  
"Bellamy! Can you come here?" She shouts from the supply room, only five minutes after he arrived. He puts down the magic 8 ball and goes to see what she wants.  
He is not prepared for her to kiss him.  
He almost let's himself get lost in the kiss, the feeling of her hands in his hair, her hips pushing up against his own. Then he remembers who he's supposed to be. He pushes away quickly, and stares at her, eyes impossibly wide.  
"And you were complaining about my mood swings?"  
She smirks, and swallows up the space between them with two steps, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands slide to her waist of their own accord, he's not sure if it's to keep her in place or to make sure she doesn't come any closer.  
"We're on opposing track teams, Clarke." He breathes.  
She presses closer. "Isn't this what you do, Bellamy? Fuck girls so they let you win?" She moves to kiss him again, and he jerks away, turning his face from her. His breath comes fast.  
"Who told you that?"  
She pauses. "Lexa."  
The smile that crosses his face is humorless. "Of course she did." He shakes his head.  
"Bellamy—"  
"What were you expecting?" He turns on his heel to face her, nostrils flaring.  
Her brow furrows. "What?"  
He steps closer. "Did you just expect me to go along with it? After everything? All the fights and the outbursts and the crying and the tension and the yelling, not to mention that come fall we'll be competing against each other again. What were you expecting, Clarke?" He doesn't realize that he now has her pinned against the counter, hands on either side of her hips, caging her in.  
"I don't—" she inhales sharply and let's out a shaky breath.  
"Spit it out." He says through gritted teeth. He knows he's scaring her, but it's the only he knows to keep her away.  
Her eyes snap to his. "I don't know, ok? I clearly wasn't thinking, but...I just wanted to know if it was true. If you were actually that kind of person." She crosses her arms and stares at the ground.  
He steps away, mouth opening and closing. After all the rude comments and the dick moves and unnecessary things he's done, she doesn't think he's a bad person. In fact, she even wanted to prove that he wasn't.  
He clears his throat, and says. "What would you have thought if I hadn't stopped you?" Because now he's curious, she's definitely different from any girl he's ever met.  
"It would have proven what I knew all along." She says, a smile gracing her features.  
"And what is that?"  
Her smile grows. "You like me."  
He chokes on nothing of course. "That's quite the accusation, princess." He sputters.  
She begins to walk a slow circle around him, dragging her finger across his shoulders and stomach. Goosebumps rise where her fingers touch and he groans inwardly, how could he have not known that he was so done for?  
She stops in front of him, narrowing her eyes. "What I can't quite figure out though, is why you were such a dick. Can you just not handle liking someone? Do you handle it by pulling pigtails, like a five year old?"  
He catches the finger that she has running down his chest, and holds it there.  
"You tell me something, and I tell you something. Ok?"  
She grins, and opens her mouth to speak, but he silences her with a finger to her lips.  
"I go first."  
She pouts, but agrees, she hops onto the counter and he stands between her legs. He's so screwed.  
"Why were you crying yesterday?"  
Her smile instantly fades and she sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do we have to talk about it?"  
"Yep."  
She takes his hands in her own and continues to stare at the ground.  
"Yesterday morning, before I came in, my mom said she had something to discuss with me. I figured it was just about how I needed to be better at functioning as a human, standard stuff." He chuckles softly.  
"But when I got downstairs, she was crying, and I knew something bad had happened. Really bad. She never cries, even when she divorced my dad and he moved out, she never shed a tear. She told me to come sit with her on the couch, I did. She told me that the doctors were doing everything they could, but they weren't sure if he was going to make it past 18." She stops, and he squeezes her fingers.  
Her voice is a whisper when she speaks again, "My best friend, Wells. He has stage four cancer in his lungs."  
He swears his heart cracks, right down the middle, when she lets out a sob.  
"I'm so sorry, Clarke." He wraps his arms around her as she cries.  
"Why didn't you call in sick yesterday?" He whispers into her hair.  
"You reacted so badly last time I—"  
His arms tighten around her and he presses his lips against her temple.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."  
"It's ok."  
"It's not. You shouldn't forgive me so easily." He pulls back and wipes the tears from her lashes.  
"I've realized its nearly impossible to stay mad at you, so I gave up trying."  
Her lopsided grin makes his heart race, and he can't help but kiss her.  
"Now that you know that, it's my turn. What was the point of trying to ignore the fact that you found me irresistible."  
He laughs at her confidence, and pulls her off the counter.  
"We have to get back to work."  
"Not fair!" She protests, seconds away from stomping her foot.  
He flicks her ear, fond. "But, you can come over tonight and pick my brains." He realizes that sounds a little forward. "Um, if you want." He adds. She surges up and kisses him, reassuring his fears.  
"I want, definitely."

It's hard to stop touching her once he's started, he can't help but graze a hand across her hip when reaching for a book. Or drag a finger down her arm, grinning at the goosebumps he raises.  
She's the same, thank god, brushing her chest against his arm and linking their fingers together.  
She basically pounces on him when they arrive at his house, pushing him onto his couch and straddling him.  
"Sister." He mumbles against her lips, and she scrambles off his lap, looking around. He laughs.  
"She's not here, but just so you know. I have one." He pulls her wrist until she's laying against him, he can access her hair much easier that way.  
She snuggles into his side, causing his heart to flip a little.  
Jesus, you'd think he had a crush or something.  
"It's your turn, you know."  
She sighs. "I know. I was trying to enjoy myself for a minute."  
"Well don't stop on my account."  
She sits up. "Too late. You already ruined it."  
He grins. "Just ask your questions."  
She nods, and crosses her legs, facing him. "Why does Lexa hate your guts?"  
He lets his head drop onto the back of the couch. "Shouldn't you be asking her that? She's the one with the stick up her—"  
"Bellamy." Clarke gives him a look.  
"Ok, ok, fine. I guess it started at the beginning of sophomore year, I was dating her sister, Amelia, who was also on the track team and a year younger than us. We were nothing serious, we had only been going out a few weeks. But Amelia got attached easily, and she wanted to spend all of her time with me. I didn't mind, she was cool and a good kisser. But I didn't realize how far that attachment went, when we raced against each other that season, she let me win every time. I didn't catch on at first, but when I did, I immediately broke up with her. The relationship wasn't healthy and Amelia was throwing her dreams away for some guy she barely even knew. She didn't really see it that way, and when she went to Lexa, completely heartbroken, Lexa saw what she wanted to see, and she's hated me ever since." He looses a breath and chances looking at Clarke, who's staring at her hands.  
"You never told her the truth? That it wasn't your fault?"  
"I figured it was better to let sleeping dogs lie."  
She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything.  
"Ask me something else." He murmurs.  
"Why were you such a prick? For the whole time you've known me?" She says it in a teasing tone, but it still makes him feel guilty.  
"I'm really sorry about that, Clarke. I want you to know that, I never meant to make you feel like—"  
She takes his hand and squeezes it. "I know, it's ok. But I would really like to know why."  
He pulls her against him again, to remind himself that she's not going anywhere.  
"After I broke up with Amelia, I told my coach what happened, and instead of talking to the judges, he wanted me to do it again. So I could win again, even though I was winning without any help already."  
"Greedy bastard." Clarke mumbles, angrily.  
"Agreed. He told me that I had to do it otherwise I'd get kicked off the team, I told him to go to hell."  
Her chest rumbles with laughter.  
"Once he realized he had lost one his greatest runners, he apologized and gave me my spot back. But he hasn't stopped harassing me about dating girls from other teams."  
She twists to see his face. "As much as I'm enjoying this story, what does this have to do with us?"  
"I'm getting there. I had heard there was a new girl on Lexa's team, but I didn't think much of it. Until I saw you, and you were new and untouched and I knew Cage would want me to, you know. So I came up with a plan, a shitty one, but a plan. I thought if I was a dick, and you hated me, if Cage made me try to come onto you, you wouldn't fall for it." He licks his lips, waiting for her response. Her laughter surprises him.  
"And how did that plan work out for you?" She gestures to their cuddling bodies and he laughs too.  
"I guess you're just too smart for me."  
She pecks his lips, grinning so hard that it's barely even a kiss.  
"I agree."


End file.
